The first time I saw them, I think I was four. At least, that's as far back as I can remember.
It's normal for a little girl to have an imaginary friend. Sometimes kids even have a little group of them! But for me, they were always so... Alive.
I don't remember who came first, but the one I dreamt most of, as they were the most alive in my sleep, was Sirius. Maybe I shouldn't say he was the one I dreamt of most; I don't know if that's strictly true. Sure, I remember thinking what a funny name he had, but that was only in the beginning. It was what came in those dreams that made me remember him the most.
Soon, he was joined by Remus (yet another eccentric name), James, and Lily. The dreams of James and Lily often came in the same night, but were never connected.
When I was seven, I began to recognize that they weren't as present in my everyday life as they had been in previous years. Nonetheless, my mind did conjure them when I wasn't focusing on anything I was meant to be giving my attention to during the day. The four children, much like me but with foreign accents that made me think they had perpetual colds, were the stars of my dreams. I rarely dreamt of anything or anyone else.
At the age of nine, I started keeping a dream journal. In the beginning, as I look back at the pages, my descriptions were poor and my vocabulary was limited. Thankfully, I have managed to expand it, and my journals now read much more like the 15 year old I am. It'd just be weird to live in the body of a teenager but think and speak with the capability of a kid!
The dreams changed when I was 11, a year after I started my education in one of North America's four schools for magic. My four far-off friends were no longer apart, but together in a school of their own. When I woke, I could never recall the name of the school, or if it was said at all. I never really thought it mattered in the end. The dreams that brought them together also bore new faces and names, the most popular of which included Lily's friend Alice, and a boy called Peter that the boys grew close to in their dorm.
In no way, shape, or form did I see ordinary, every-day happenings in my dreams. These people, sorts of characters I had grown attached to over the years, came to my mind when a special occasion or breakthrough occurred. They weren't always enormous, but they were enough to change someone, or help another's views evolve. Some nights, there was nothing at all. I came to assume there was either nothing of importance, or my mind had already shown me the most important of coming events.
I remember waking up screaming at the age of five. I had just watched sweet Remus attacked by an animal. All I could describe to my daddy was the beast was big, hairy, and looked like evil. A month later, I awoke in the same way. This time, however, it was after seeing Remus himself transform. He was like an oversized mangy dog, and he looked to be in a great deal of pain. He had become a werewolf. It was a dream I grew painfully accustomed to once every month, seeing the torture his own body put him through, and feeling some sympathy pains myself. I almost wished I could take on more if it would make him feel less. I didn't like to see my friend hurt.
When I was six, I saw Sirius beaten for the first time. The big woman was obviously his mother, yelling at him for his poor manners while their family had dinner guests. I didn't think parents could do that to their children, not before Walburga stormed into my sleep. Seeing Sirius cry made me cry too, but I didn't know it until I had awoken in the middle of the night to find my face wet. My eyes had dried by the morning, but he dealt with his mother's punishments more than once. It didn't matter how many times I wished for his mother to stop. I was always given the first look at what horrors were to come for my friend.
James lived a much more blessed life. The most traumatic thing in his life was the death of his Great Aunt Ariella, who left him a small pile of gold anyways. No, horrible, undeserved events were not his destiny. Instead, James embodied pure joy. I'll never forget the first time he rode a broom, a real one instead of the toy ones he outgrew more quickly than any other boy. The absolute elation written all over his face made euphoria bubble up and fill my insides to the brim for being able to experience his happiness in tandem. The flight came so naturally to him, his lanky form just right for soaring through the air with the barest of resistance and upmost of ease. He was going to be great, I could see it in his eyes. They know what they're talking about with that whole 'windows to the soul' thing.
For a while, Lily seemed happy, too. She had always been beautiful. I distinctly recall feeling jealous of her fiery hair color more than once. I complained in my journal that my skin was "too light brown but dark" to pull off the shade. It has been five years since I wrote that, and my eloquence as a child never fails to make me laugh.
Some of her happiness faded upon discovering and delving into her magic abilities. She lost her sister, her best friend, but she gained a new one in the same instance. He was a pale, dark-haired boy called Severus. I liked the way Lily always called him Sev though, even if I was jealous I could never have my very own nickname from her. She seemed like such a loyal friend to have.
Each moment I saw had lasting effects on the four as individuals, and on me in return.
But don't get me wrong! I lived in the present, whether I was in New Mexico with my best friends or with my parents back in Texas during school break. Still, none of that changed their almost-nightly presence in my life. Those four and their friends were always there when I closed my eyes.
I can't tell you how often I've gotten myself into trouble for daydreaming. It always felt like I was stuck within the dream itself; it was all I could see and I couldn't turn it off.
I always thought I had an active, creative imagination.
They weren't supposed to be real.
Author's Note: This chapter has been updated, as of March 9th, 2015. I've found myself completely unmotivated to write new material until I can fix the old to suit a more matured writing vocabulary and style. Updates on following chapters to come!
Yours truly,
DramaMama
